


No Holiday

by CourierNew



Category: Deltarune (Video Game), Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-25
Updated: 2018-11-25
Packaged: 2019-08-29 08:40:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16740706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CourierNew/pseuds/CourierNew
Summary: The nights grow longer. The families try to cope.





	1. Noelle

**Author's Note:**

> I know unhappiness waits there to greet the young.  
> \- San Fermin, "Reckoning"

It was the onset of twilight and both of them were reading, Toriel with one of her dog-eared snail books, Kris with some novel for their summer assignment. The garlicky after-scent of Toriel’s cooking hung heavy in the air. Even with the book open in front of them, Kris couldn’t remember what it was about. Something involving a boat, maybe. The words skittered like fleas to the edges of their vision. They were seated in front of the unplugged TV and their reflection was caged in black glass.

“It seems we’ll be having leftovers for a while,” said Toriel. “I’ll need to start cooking less, without your brother around.”

Kris turned the page. Toriel looked up at them, carefully removing her spectacles.

“School starts in just a few days. Are you finished with your homework?”

“Yes.”

“If you would like me to look over your assignments, I would be happy to-”

“It’s fine.”

“All right.”

Kris heard Toriel’s seat creak as she went back to her book. The clock ticked. The shadows pressing against the windows darkened.

“Can I go out?” they asked. Toriel looked up again.

“I don’t…I mean, it’s rather late…”

“I just need some air.”

“Very well,” she said hesitantly. “But put on a jacket. It’s getting cold.”

“Okay.”

In Asriel’s absence the house’s quiet had turned sepulchral. Every stray sound was pronounced. Toriel heard the thump of Kris’ staggered footfalls, the closet door opening and closing loud as gunshots. She heard the dry hiss of them taking their hoodie off the hangar. The jacket was a deep purple hand-me-down from Asriel; when they zipped it up, she thought she could hear the click of each individual tooth.

“Where are you going?” she asked.

“Just taking a walk.”

“Don’t stay out too late.”

“I know.”

Throughout this conversation, Kris didn’t look at Toriel once. Or at least that’s what she thought – maybe it was all the reading, but she couldn’t seem to focus on them. They were a shadow swinging across the far wall, the reflection crossing the expanse of the TV screen. Then the door opened, and shut, and they were gone.

The sunset had burned down to a thin wound on the far horizon and Kris flipped up the hood and stuck their hands in their pockets. The jacket might have been Asriel’s but he’d hardly worn it. Sometime around Kris’ age, he’d started putting on inches like a beanstalk, to the point where Toriel had sworn once that he’d left his room taller than he’d gone in. Kris was showered in the clothes he outgrew. Most of them went unworn. This hoodie was an exception, though accommodations had to be made – the slits meant for Asriel’s horns didn’t do anything for Kris except make their scalp cold, so Toriel had stitched up the hood. The thin white crosshatchings of thread shone in the growing dusk.

The streetlights had flicked on. In the spaces between were bruised shadows and fuzzed silhouettes. A town stained the color of insomnia. They walked, head down, navigating from one pool of light to the next. Everything gone quiet. Most of the kids were bunkering down for the impending school year and their parents were getting ready for bed. Asriel had been gone a little over a week. Kris was alone.

At one crossroads they paused and gazed down the street where Asgore’s shop stood. The lights were out; it had been a while since Kris had visited, but they passed the place often and sometimes the tectonic rumble of Asgore’s snoring could be heard even from outside. The shadows around the shop festered. Like the letters from the book, they crawled around Kris’ vision. The shadows of the treebranches bent and swung and their outlines writhed like something maggot-infested. Kris felt them cold on their skin.

Slowly, they unzipped the hoodie halfway and scratched their chest. This was something that shouldn’t be done outside, they know, but the movement wasn’t totally conscious, half-reflexive, like bruxism. Their nails rasped across their shirt. The fabric bundled and stretched as they clawed harder. Their fingers started to snag on something unseen.

A sound behind them.

Kris jerked in place and turned, pulling their hand away. Someone further down the sidewalk. If Kris had actually bothered to look around first they would have noticed right away – there was no mistaking that silhouette, the antlers. Noelle Holiday, head bowed, her phone clutched to her chest. She was shaking, her breath small and broken like twigs underfoot. Kris zipped the hoodie back up and that was when she noticed them.

She squeaked. She straightened. After a long moment, she waved at them. After an even longer one, Kris waved back. She put her phone back and crossed the space between them like someone navigating a minefield.

“Hey,” she said, wiping her eyes. “You’re out late.”

Kris said nothing.

“Feels like it’s just the two of us out here, doesn’t it?” She had her own coat on, something in red and green check, and she pulled it closer to herself as she looked around the empty neighborhood. “Um. Were you on your way home?”

“No.”

“Okay. So. Would you like to. Hang out? Or something? We could go to the diner, or…” She stopped as Kris’ face briefly turned pained. “Or I could just tag along wherever you were going. If that’s okay.”

“Where’s your key?”

“My key? Oh, for the house. I’ve got it here. But I couldn’t…I needed some air. Don’t want to go back just yet.” Her voice gained a pleading edge. “My mom’s still at work. I just really don’t want to be alone right now.”

Kris bit their lip. They craned their head around Noelle, as if expecting someone else to be hiding in the shadows. “It’s not really a fun place.”

“You could say that about pretty much everywhere here.”

Silence. Then Kris put their hood back up and walked on.

Noelle had known them for a while, and Kris had never been that expressive – less than ever, lately, but one of the reasons they had been such an almighty terror around the neighborhood was that it was nearly impossible to tell what they were thinking. You couldn’t know what they were about to do until they did it, and suddenly your ornaments were on fire or you couldn’t go to bed for a month without shoving a broomhandle underneath to make sure nothing was hiding there. But there were signs if you knew how to look for them. Kris’ slow pace suggested they were expecting Noelle to follow, and when she did, they didn’t complain.

The town quietly shivered around them as they walked. The lit windows gave every house a blank and idiot stare. As they ventured further out and the twilight waned and the streetlights grew sparser, Noelle found Kris harder to see, though she was only a few paces behind them. Their silhouette became fuzzed, their outline undulating like a sinewave. Only the stitches across their hood seemed solid. They didn’t acknowledge her even as they passed the obelisk of the church.

“Kris? You’re not going to that weird hill at the edge of town, are you? I know what I said before, but that place really gives me the creeps.”

“No,” they said. “It’s not much further.”

They turned and headed for the memorials, which wasn’t much of an improvement. No lights here at all. The fenceposts around the stones were little more than pale slivers in the murk. Kris picked their way to the edge of the fence, then stepped to the bench, sat down, and went still. After a moment, Noelle sat down too. They were almost invisible, save for Kris’ stitching and the yellow of Noelle’s hair.

Time passed.

“So,” she said. “This is it?”

“This is it.”

“I’ve never been here this late.” She couldn’t even see the lights of town. “I guess it is pretty private. You know, your brother was asking me where you went all day. I guess he was looking for you. Were you out here?”

“Sometimes.”

They were at opposite ends of the bench. Noelle shuddered, both from the cold and from the oppressive dark around this place, but she didn’t get any closer to them. These days Kris seemed to emit a private barrier wherever they went.

“Really quiet,” she said. “But in a good way, I guess. Not like at home. Without my dad around it gets so quiet I want to scream. Must be the same way at your place, without Asriel.”

No answer. Noelle kept talking, her voice turning brittle.

“My mom’s always at work, too, and when she’s home she’s not in the mood to talk much. I keep trying to find ways to stay busy but turns out I just did everything with my dad, before. Funny how you never think about stuff like that, right? I should probably clean the house soon, at least. It might make my mom happy and Dad’s stuff is just sitting there gathering d-d-d…”

She clapped her hands around her mouth and let out a helpless horrified giggle that broke up into hacking sobs that bent her double as if in prayer. Kris looked at her, the visible half of their face somewhere between confused and concerned, but she held her palm out, fought to get her breathing steady.

“Sorry,” she hiccupped. “I’m sorry. I made you drag me all the way out here and then I just start losing it. I just…need a minute…”

She sniffed, wiped her face, sat straight. When she talked again she tried to sound nonchalant, as if she was just explaining an uninteresting phone call.

“I just got back from the hospital, when you saw me,” she said. “Seeing him. So that’s why.”

“He’s still sick?”

“I don’t _know._ That’s the worst part. He was supposed to come home this week and I was thinking, okay, my summer was basically ruined by this but at least now it’s over, right? And then they tell me they need to do more tests. It’s the third time! How many more tests can they run?” She shook her head. “So I melted down a little. He says everything’s okay, but I’m having trouble…n-not expecting the worst…”

No answer to that. Kris didn’t have much experience with commiseration.

“Anyway, it’s fine,” Noelle said. “How have you been? With Asriel and everything.”

“I’m fine.”

“It’s not like we can’t still talk to them. I visit my dad all the time, you can just call Asriel whenever…”

“I’ve bothered him enough.”

“Come on, you know he doesn’t think that.”

“It doesn’t matter what he thinks,” said Kris. “That’s how it is.”

Noelle fidgeted worriedly but couldn’t think of a reply, and Kris didn’t seem to be in any hurry to explain. Night had fallen fully, now. Not even crickets could be heard. If it weren’t for the waxy oblong of Kris’ face beneath their hood, she wouldn’t know they were here at all. She looked up; the sky past the treebranches was starless.

“God, I hate this,” she sighed. “Around this time of year I’d be looking forward to Christmas. Now I just worry about everything that might happen between then and now. Do you remember when we were kids, everyone always asked us what we wanted to be when we grew up? I can’t even think that far ahead, anymore. I don’t even remember what I told them.”

I wanted to be like my brother, Kris didn’t say.

“I can’t help but worry,” Noelle went on. “Meanwhile I’ve got my dad in his hospital bed asking me why I always look so scared of everything.”

“It’s because everything’s scary,” said Kris.

She looked at them in surprise – their voice was the same dry creak as ever, but they’d said it like confiding a secret. She followed their gaze to the trees beyond the cemetery and the shadows swam before her eyes. Maybe they were just bleary from crying, but she thought she saw something moving in that outer dark. Formless shadow, night cracking into blacker night, that rose up like a breaching whale and then was gone.

She said, “You too?”

Silence.

“Thanks,” she said. “Even if you didn’t mean it. It’s just nice to hear someone else say so.” She huffed. “But it’s not like you didn’t make things worse. I still have nightmares from the time you bought those giant fake fangs and told me your human teeth were coming in.”

Kris actually laughed at that. It sounded like a backed-up drain, but it was there.

“I’m glad I ran into you tonight. The only other person I really talk to about this stuff is Berdly and, you know, he’s okay and everything, but some of the crap he says makes me hope that all his feathers fall off.”

“I can make that happen if you want.”

“Oh, stop it!” She reached over and gave them a gentle shove. They rocked in place and didn’t react, but she thought she could see a faint smile under that hood now. She stood up, dusting off her coat.

“I should get going,” she said. “You want me to walk you home?”

“I’m going to stay a little while.”

“Okay. Good night.” She started off, then stopped, and sighed, and turned back. She stepped in front of Kris, her jaw set. Kris angled their head up, the stitches on their hood swaying.

“Kris,” she said. “While I’m here. There’s just something I wanted to get off my chest. When all of us look at you, you know that we see… _you_ , right?”

No reply, as usual. But the way their head stayed cocked suggested they didn’t follow. She kneaded her hands together; she hadn’t exactly rehearsed this.

“What I mean to say is, it’s okay if you’re not like your brother, or not…not like us. No one here ever thought less of you for it. And that’s coming from me, so you can believe it. Maybe it never bothered you, either, but in case it did, I thought it might be nice to hear someone say so. Like you did for me.”

Kris lowered their head and said nothing. Their smile had drained away.

“Anyway.” She cleared her throat. “I’ll see you at school.”

Her footsteps crunched away. Kris stared forward as the sound faded. The outer dark roiled and heaved.

After a little while they lowered the hood and pulled down the zipper and started to scratch. Their face stayed impassive as their nails raked their shirt and the skin beneath. And before long they encountered resistance, that familiar snag, and with a sound like punching through wet cardboard they shoved their fingers through their chest. Candy-red light shone around the digits and stained the underside of their chin bloody. There was an eye-watering mosquito whine.

The sound caught Noelle’s attention. She was in front of the church when Kris’ fingers sank in up to the second knuckle. If she had turned around then, she would have seen it. An arterial glow that only served to make the surrounding darkness sharper. But then Kris grimaced and tore their fingers away, gasping, empty-handed, and when she finally looked back, the light had already gone.


	2. Rudy

Before he went out he checked the flowers, gleaming sullenly in their belljars. He checked the flowers whenever he went out, when he came in, before bed and after rising. In his more honest moments he wondered if perhaps the behavior was a touch obsessive. He wondered if he should maybe start keeping a journal, something light and easy to occupy the moments when he had nothing better to do with himself – moments that, yes, let us continue the honesty, were becoming more and more common lately. But there was no journal and the bouquet out front had already been arranged, so he checked the flowers.

The preservation technique was his own, or at least one he hadn’t seen duplicated. Normally you could keep a plant under glass for about ten years, with time and care, but once he’d placed the seals on these he could be assured that they would go on and on. Before he’d jarred them he’d sprayed them with gentle colorants to maintain that beautiful spectrum of pigmentation, and while that color was showing little micro-cracks hinting at the age beneath, it wasn’t really obvious unless you got right up in front of them. Which few people did. So that was fine. Look but not closely, and don’t ever touch.

The backroom of his shop was dingy and dim, but always perfumed. The plants on the trellis along the walls were coming in nicely. Easy to focus on that and not the clanking fridge or the hard-worn air mattress. His horned shadow passed along the locked storeroom door as he pulled open a drawer with a grunt and a sigh, and withdrew a small humidity sensor. Well-made, bought in better days. After a moment he checked the reading and nodded and put it back. The flowers couldn’t be touched but the climate in which they were kept had to be exact, and in this neighborhood that wasn’t always easy. Not long ago it had rained like the end of the world and he’d needed to drag the dehumidifier out of the storeroom and run it all the while, unplugging the empty fridge to save on the electric bill. He would have dearly loved a proper greenhouse instead of this rickshaw excuse for climate control, but there had never been money for it even before everything had happened.

He stepped out of the backroom and found the shop empty. Not surprising for this time of year. Leaves were changing, people had all the colorful plants they needed for free. He thought that once the branches turned bare, he could start advertising some winter perennials and make a little money.

Speaking of which.

There was an envelope under his door. On the front it simply read “A. DREEMURR.” No forwarding or return address. He always thought that a little presumptuous. He sighed, and scratched his horns, then picked up the letter and went back to his room and flicked it into the mattress. It could wait.

The roses were by the cash register. He’d spent the morning trimming and arranging them, and right now school was still in and most others were at work. Little chance of missing business. He flipped the sign on the front window to “SORRY WE’RE CLOSED,” then gathered the bouquet in his arms and set out.

The onset of autumn. Everything the color of flame. Not his favorite season, if only because of the drop in business, but he liked all of them in their own ways, and besides, this particular summer was one he was glad to see the back of. Not that good things hadn’t happened – wonderful, yes, momentous things, his children growing up, couldn’t be prouder, but also suffused with a sort of melancholy that, he would privately admit, made him wish they would happen another year. Hold time in place for a little bit. It was moving entirely too fast, all of a sudden.

Hardly any cars on the road. The only gossip the sound of birdsong. When he went into the hospital even the front desk was empty; the receptionist must have been on break. He looked this way and that, and cleared his throat in an apologetic sort of way, and then slipped past to one of the patient’s rooms and opened the door.

“Well, well. Thought we had an earthquake or something, but it’s only you.”

“Nice to see you too, Rudy,” Asgore said dryly.

Rudolph Holiday grinned from his hospital bed. Same cheeky expression, same timbre to his voice. Easy to ignore how he’d grown thinner, or the general diminishment of his color, as if he was being leached out into the sterile whiteness of this room. The nurses had taken Asgore’s last bouquet off the table beside Rudy’s bed but left the dish and the jar – this was a familiar routine to all of them, by now. He carried the roses over and set them in, Rudy watching bemusedly.

“Roses again, Dreemurr? Can’t you at least bring in poinsettias or something? I’ve got an image to maintain.”

“I have some cultivating right now, as a matter of fact. But I thought you’d appreciate a splash of color in the place.”

“Those things can’t come cheap.”

“It’s fine.”

“So you’ve said.” He smirked and scratched his chin. “Say, here’s an idea. I know the lady up front’s on break. How’s about you sneak me out to the lakeside for the day? I’m so bored.”

“I don’t think that’d end well for either of us.” The small chair to the side of the room groaned as Asgore settled in, hands on his knees.

“Yeah, you’re right. With our luck I’d probably croak just as the wind picked up. Scatter me every which-a-way. Try explaining _that_ to the family.” He saw Asgore’s expression, and his smirk faded. “Too far?”

“A little.”

“Sorry, buddy. The only visitor I’ve had in a while has been Noelle and I wanted to give my everything’s-fine face a rest for a change.”

“What about your wife?”

“Ahh, she works. Buries herself in it. I wish she’d give Noelle some more attention but I can’t blame her for not wanting to see me like this.”

“It’s that bad?”

“Can't be sure of anything yet, but I am having to face certain realities at this point.” As if to illustrate, he let out a hacking cough that propelled him halfway off the bed, then he settled down again. “I’m determined to make it ‘til Christmas, at least. Leave Noelle with some happy memories.”

“If there’s anything else I can do…”

“Poinsettias. If you’re gonna dump flowers on me free of charge then at least keep ‘em in the Holiday spirit.” He pointed at Asgore. “And maybe get yourself a sandwich. I’m one to talk, but you ain’t looking so good. That balloon belly’s deflated a bit, Dreemurr.”

He defensively patted his stomach. “Not like I couldn’t stand to lose a few pounds.”

“Are you keeping on top of things at that store? I might be out of commission here, but a few words with the wife and I can-”

“I’m handling it, Rudy. Don’t worry about me.”

“Oh, I worry about most everything. Haven’t got much else to do.”

He sighed and shifted around on his pillows. Asgore watched, unsmiling. He’d brought over the first bouquet just a week after Rudy ended up in this room. Back then it had been partly a joke, both of them expecting that he would carry the flowers home himself long before they wilted. Now it had turned into some kind of grim ritual. One more attempt to hold the world in place.

“Look at us,” Rudy said. “This time last year I’d be chopping firewood all day without breaking a sweat. Now I check the sheets every morning to make sure I haven’t started crumbling into ‘em.”

“Oh, Rudy.”

“Oh, me,” he agreed. “Stupid, really. Even at my age I guess I’d fooled myself into thinking all this,” he gestured around the room, “would be some kind of…clerical error, or something. Like there was a hotline I could call. ‘Hello, excuse me, I appear to be dying.’ ‘Terribly sorry, sir, we’ll have someone fix that for you in a jiffy.’” He let out a rueful chuckle that turned into another cough.

“I know what you mean,” Asgore said. “You don’t know it’s coming until it’s there. And then it’s there.”

“I sort of knew it was coming when old Gerson passed, honestly. If that fossil could kick the bucket, then what chance have we got? Though as I understand it, your countdown started soon as Asriel got born.”

“We can’t help how we’re made.”

“Don’t take it the wrong way. He’s an exceptional young man.”

“He is.”

“How about the other one?” Rudy asked. “You checked up on ‘em lately?”

Asgore blinked, taken aback. Rudy had turned to face him fully, without a trace of that jaunty grin. Their conversations had grown dourer with every visit, but this was one subject he’d never really broached.

“Kris hasn’t visited for a while,” he admitted. “Though as I understand it, they haven’t really spoken to their mother either. I imagine Asriel leaving has affected them, but it’s not as though I can force them to talk to me.”

“That kid’s one of Noelle’s favorite subjects,” said Rudy. “I know they had a lot of fun being her personal bogeyman all those years, but she’s awful concerned about ‘em. Told me it’s like they’re…fading away, or something. Not my business, I know, but…”

“We’ve been friends for how long? My business is your business.”

“You know what they did the other day?” He grinned again as Asgore’s expression turned wary. “Guess not. It wasn’t anything bad. You know that piece-of-crap piano out in the foyer? They just wandered in, sat down, and started playing. Receptionist said they asked permission and everything.”

Asgore leaned forward, jaw slightly agape. He’d given Kris lessons, years ago; it had been one of the only things the child had shown much interest in, besides tormenting the neighborhood and clinging to their brother. The piano was long gone – it had been Asgore’s, and he’d sold it to pay for rent – and he couldn’t even remember the last time Kris had touched it before then.

“I heard it through the walls,” Rudy went on. “Wasn’t very good, to be honest. You can only plink out so much on a piano missing half the keys. But the song stuck in my head. Left a weird sort of impression. You ever get nostalgic for something you can’t even remember?”

He hummed out a couple bars – seven notes, then six. Asgore shook his head. “Don’t think I ever taught them that one.”

“So they just came up with it on their own? Kid's full of surprises.”

“It’s always been difficult to tell what they’re thinking,” Asgore sighed. “Not sure if they ever really opened up to anyone besides their brother. I suppose I could call Asriel myself and ask, but I don’t want to bother them up at college. It seems Kris feels the same way. Feels like everything’s…paralyzed, at the moment.”

“Why not just ask Kris? You text ‘em or anything?”

“I call every now and again. They don’t answer. Not to sound self-pitying, but I think they’re ashamed of me, a bit.”

“Self-pity aside, maybe take another crack at it. For me, at least.” He coughed and wheezed. “Seems like I ain’t the only thing in this neighborhood that’s sick. Awful lot of tension running through town lately. I can feel it even cooped up in here. Or am I just imagining things?”

“I’m maybe not the best one to ask.” Asgore frowned, tugged his beard. “But yes. I’ve felt it, too.”

“Noelle, Noelle. She comes in here and she just looks overwhelmed. Scared of everything. I try to reassure her best I can, but between you and me? Everything looks pretty damn scary from here, too.” He turned away and waved languidly. “Ahh, listen to me. Now I’m just being a downer.”

“I think you’re entitled to it.”

“Pfft, I ain’t about to use what time I’ve got left making folks all depressed. Just try and talk your kid, alright? Kris is pretty exceptional too, in their own way. Might help to get a reminder other people still care about ‘em.”

“I will.” He stood up. “And next time I come around, I’ll bring something a little more festive.”

“Remember, let me know if you’re in any trouble. I’ll help you out. You deserve some happy holidays, too.”

“See you around, Rudy.”

The roses weren’t helping. They just made him look even more wan by comparison. Asgore left, and as he started down the hall to confront the receptionist, he heard Rudy whistling faintly – six notes and seven, six and seven, the melody swaying back and forth like plant stems in the breeze.

*             *             *

By the time he got back to the shop the daylight had just begun to rust. The bell over the door jingled as he let himself in. He didn’t flip the sign back to “OPEN.” Even on the off chance someone did come in, he didn’t feel like he’d be giving them his best.

He went to the back room, checked the humidity again. Still nominal. In this mangy half-light, the flowers were the brightest thing here. At this point it was impossible to tell how much of their pigment had once been theirs and how much was artificial. He would never be able to check; if he opened the jars then the petals would crumble to dust from the weight of his breath alone. His hopes and his labor poured into these flowers and into his children and Rudy pensively staring from his hospital bed and Kris turning invisible to the world and Asriel off to parts unknown and all of it going where, headed for what? Time, time, it just ran away from you.

He leaned against the counter and got out his phone, opened the messenger. He didn’t like texting; it was all a little ahead of his time, and in any case the size of his hands made the whole business awkward. But he did his best:

> Hello, Kris. This is your father.  
> How have you been?  
> Please remember that I am always here if you want to talk about anything.  
> I love you.

Maybe a little impersonal. But he felt it best to approach this delicately. He put the phone back and looked at the square white envelope on the air mattress. No excuses left not to check it now.

He sat down on the mattress (it immediately distended under his weight, until he could feel the hard concrete beneath), tore open the envelope and shook the letter out. The paper crumpled and creased under his fingers as he read.

_Mr. Dreemurr,_

_This is a reminder that your rent is due by the end of next week. Note that you have been found delinquent on the last two payments._

_You have been shown leniency out of respect for Miss Toriel’s high standing in the community, but if you fail to make this next payment as well, I will be forced to consider punitive measures._

_I await your prompt reply._

_\- C._

The storeroom doors rattled.

Asgore let out a choked gasp and spasmed in place hard enough to tear the letter nearly in half; the sound hadn’t been very loud, as if someone on the other side of the door had given it a single firm strike with the flat of their hand, but in the quiet of this room it had been like an electric shock. He cast the letter aside and stood, trying to get his heartbeat under control.

The double doors with their familiar glass windows were quiet and still. The glass was black as a dead television screen; his wary reflection was twinned, caged in it. No indication of anyone on the other side. But as Asgore approached, he found his vision swimming. The shadows were wrong. They did not appear congruent with the light in this room. It was as if they were spilling out of the cracks around the door itself. Their patterns shifted subtly every time he blinked. When he approached the door and reached out, one of those shadows interlaced his hand and he pulled it away with a hiss. It had been viciously cold, and somehow repulsive, like grabbing onto a knot of worms.

“Toriel’s right,” he muttered, massaging the hand. “Going stir-crazy in here.”

With a final backwards glance, he walked out. The bell outside jingled again as he left the store. Time passed. The shadows around the door thinned, turned pointed, like grasping fingers. Then they receded behind the door again, and as they did they left delicate scratches in the concrete beneath, invisible in the half-light.

When Asgore returned that evening he found nothing unusual and convinced himself that he’d imagined it all. His message to Kris went unanswered. Rudy continued to receive Noelle’s visits and did his best to buoy them up. And as the days went on, and people went to bed and woke up and crept around the hole left by Asriel’s departure, and that unseen unspoken anxiety dragged itself forward alongside them and raked the fabric of the world threadbare, something else began to awaken. In the hidden places, behind the doors that seldom opened. Something dark and strange, bubbling up from the depths.


End file.
